A Very Hogwarts Childhood
by fantasys-dance
Summary: When McGonagall adopted year old baby Harry, she couldn't have known all the changes or joys he would bring into her life. Or, more luckily, the chaos. Because raising a child in Hogwarts was never going to make for a normal childhood, even if the child in question wasn't the son of a marauder...
1. Chapter 1

A/N This is a response to a prompt on instagram about what if McGonagall had refused to let Dumbledore give Harry to the Dursleys. Hope you enjoy it and please leave a review, it's indescribably encouraging to me as a writer when people take the time to give me feedback! This is going to be a two chapter fic if I can work out how to make it so, otherwise I will take it down and post it all in one chapter! Oh, and I don't own Harry Potter!

-MHMH-

When Minerva McGonagall became Harry James Potter's guardian, surrogate mother and 'Aunt Minnie', she was thinking of Harry and how utterly inappropriate parents the Dursleys would be. She was not thinking of the practicalities of raising a child.

At first it wasn't too bad. There was the initial shock of changes of course, getting used to looking after a one year old baby. A cot had to be put in her quarters, and she had to get bibs and Babygros and things like that. She didn't have to do it on her own though. The other Hogwarts professors helped of course. There was almost always someone free during every period, and where there wasn't they managed to rearrange the schedule so that someone was. Everyone babysat. Well, most people. Severus sniffed and stalked off when asked, and no-one thought it was a good idea to let Sybil babysit Harry, that was a disaster begging to happen.

Everyone else though; Filius entertained him with bright dancing lights in the air and dancing toys to toddle after, Pomona let him build mud castles and propped them up with spells so that he could build it big enough to enter, Charity took him for long walks around the grounds, Hagrid brought him to see the unicorns and play in his hut, Poppy let him cheer up the patients with non-infectious injuries once they were fixed up, and Albus, well, Albus did a hundred things that wowed the baby. The number of times Harry came back from Albus's office with blue hair and a sherbet lemon...

No, initially, there were some adjustments, but it was all managed perfectly fine. It was when he started growing up that the problems started. First there were the 'terrible twos' which Harry hit a little late, possibly due to the shock of his parents dying and everything changing. When he did hit them though, just before he turned three, he hit them rather thoroughly. There was the usual screaming and shouting and tantrums of course, but there was also the problems of all that in a castle. A magical castle.

Harry was a rather persistent child, and when he wished, a very quiet child. This meant that he somehow kept managing to slip his babysitters. He always came back, and he never seemed to get hurt, so most of the professors just let him toddle up and down the halls and play with the suits of armour. Until he started going further.

The castle looked after him of course. There was always a staircase that came when he called, and it always stayed when he asked it to. Unfortunately, it also moved when he asked it to. The castle rather liked having a small, cute child around, and it rather liked watching him play. No one really fully realised how problematic this was until Harry stranded a group of Ravenclaws on a landing, and then went off to play. Without any adult. And instructed all the stairs to move away from where they'd been before once he'd gone. Have you ever tried to catch a toddler when the very building is working against you?

And then, there were Harry's fours. Minerva had managed to block out most of that year. It had started by Rolanda giving him a toy broomstick for his birthday, and a four month rein of terror along the Hogwarts hallways, ending in a dive bombing of the great hall during breakfast after he somehow managed to remove the height restrictions. Minerva rather suspected a couple of the seventh year Griffindor's had a hand in that one. And then, he'd gotten chickenpox, and then mumps. Most of the year was a blur of panic and tiredness, and she did not intend to try to remember it.

When Harry was five, he discovered Peeves. Or more accurately, Peeves discovered Harry. The Hogwarts professors had thought that the marauders were trouble. Then there was five year old Harry teamed with Peeves without any classes or homework or quidditch practice or full moons or everything else to keep them busy. Mercifully, Harry couldn't do much magic then, and there was only so much chaos you could cause with Zonkos products. Unfortunately, it was quite a large amount of chaos. There was the silly string across all major corridors prank, and the handful of dungbombs he managed to mix into all the house hourglasses along with the gems that showed the points. There was the 23 fanged-risbees let loose at various places around the school, marked 1 to 25, with a couple of numbers skipped just to add stress. Then all Sybils teacups were replaced with the nose biting kind, and there were the hundreds of bottles of vanishing ink that they managed to swap for normal ink around school. And of course, who could forget the time when Harry managed to trick the house elves into putting sneezing potion into everyone's food. Minerva tried everything, from early bedtimes to grounding him, but finally, in desperation she offered him permission to sit in on classes if he stopped pranking. He didn't stop pranking, but he did significantly reduce it, and classes did keep him busy.

Minerva didn't think the faculty had ever been more relieved to have another student, even when he started handing in homework which had to be marked.

Then he turned six and Charlie Weasley became famous at Hogwarts for his flying, and suddenly Harry was begging to be allowed to fly again. And begging. And begging. And begging.

And begging.

And begging.

Minerva finally caved with the promise that he would keep both height and speed restrictions, and never fly without supervision. In retrospect, she probably should have specified adult supervision. And that he should keep the _original_ height and speed restrictions. But at least it kept him busy, and whatever house he ended up in (which was going to be Gryffindor, McGonagall refused to accept any other possibility) he was going to be a brilliant seeker. Maybe they could finally win the quidditch cup then.

At least he only flew into the whomping willow once.

And fell into the lake twice.

And he did make an amazing quidditch commentator. He had all the enthusiasm of the most crazed quidditch fan, and distinctly less house bias, and no swear words, or at least none that he'd let Minerva hear.

By the time Harry was nine, he'd all but memorised the first year classes, and half the second year ones, and he was sitting in on the odd third year class. The faculty were already planning extra things they could have him do in class when he got bored. They had all learned that a bored Harry was a bad idea. They all remembered when Harry first met the Weasley twins and they pulled off their first prank together. The entire school remembered that. They'd covered every chair, bench and seat in the school with slightly warm toffee, charmed to mimic the colour of the seat and be vanish resistant. It had taken two days to sort out the chairs, and they'd all been sticky for weeks afterwards. That had been when they invited Harry into third year classes to relieve boredom.

Of course, there was still the holidays. No one was likely to forget the enchanted snowmen anytime soon. Or the time he taught every single portrait on the fourth floor to sing _I know a song that will get on your nerves._

Despite all this however, and despite how much trouble her adopted son was undoubtedly going to get into when he officially started Hogwarts and started doing actual magic, Minerva never once regretted adopting Harry. There may have been tantrums and pranks and broomsticks (and the heart attack he'd almost given her when he did a somersault on one) , but there was also bedtime stories and little hands scratching in just the right spot under her animagus form's chin because he knew she liked it. There were handfuls of flowers collected from around the lake and "Happy birthday Aunt Minnie" even though it was four months off her birthday. There was bags of his favourite sweets shared just because, and drawings of 'Me and Aunty playing tag. There were warm evenings with crumpets and board games, and early mornings filled with boundless energy that somehow overflowed to her. There were amazed smiles at magical fireworks and delighted laughs at her stories of students. There were little hands on Saturday mornings dragging her away from marking and out into the sunshine and endless, endless hugs.

No, Minerva McGonagall had not known what she was getting into when she adopted little Harry, but she wouldn't have changed a thing. Not one thing. Harry Potter was her son in all but blood, and she would not have it any other way. Not ever.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don 't own Harry Potter or anything you recognise. Lots of Remus in this one, and thanks to Instagram again for the prompt that partly made me think of this!

-RHRH-

Of course, raising a child in Hogwarts is a little different from raising children elsewhere, and not only because of all the magic and moving staircases. It was different because there was no muggle primary school nearby. Educationally, this wasn't really a problem. There were plenty of teachers who could come up with interesting lessons for a young child, and the faculty easily taught Harry how to read and write and do maths and some basic science. McGonagall taught him how to read, Septima, their Arithmancy professor, taught him to do maths, Pomona taught him about plant biology, Silvanus, their Care of Magical Creatures professor, taught him some human and animal biology, Filius taught him some physics, and Irma taught him a hundred different things from the library. Rolanda of course got him doing some sports. Well, she got him playing quidditch anyway.

The problem lay in the fact that Harry never saw kids his own age, and Minerva had been teaching children long enough to know the problem with isolating children when they were little. She sent him on play dates of course, to the Weasleys and to the Longbottoms and a few times to the Abbotts and the Bones's. But he couldn't go everyday, or even most days, and Minerva worried that he would get lonely, despite the interest the vast majority of the student body took in the young boy-who-lived.

Perhaps this was part of the reason why it took so long for Harry to ask the question. Minerva had been waiting for it for years, but had always somehow dreaded it. But one day, when Harry was five, shortly after the fanged-frisbees incident, and after coming home from a play date with Susan Bones, he did ask the question.

"Aunt Minnie?"

"Yes Harry?"

"Why don't Susan and I have a Mum and a Dad like everyone else?"

Minerva froze, then she took a deep breath and put down her quill, capped the pot of red ink, and carefully put away the essays she was marking. Then she led Harry through to their living quarters and made hot chocolate and found a tin of biscuits and sat down on the sofa with Harry.

Then she told him.

She didn't lie, or try to make the truth sound softer. Harry deserved the truth, no matter how young he was. He had always understood that his parents had died, and now he deserved to be told truthfully how and why. No matter how hard the truth. He listened quietly, and when she finished he asked very quietly.

"Is that why the students call me the-boy-who-lived? Because my parents didn't?"

Minerva couldn't speak for several seconds, her throat choked up. Finally she said quietly. "No Harry, they call you that because you lived, and no one else over had before."

"Did they love me?"

"Very, very much."

"Do you think they regret dying for me?"

"Not one little bit."

McGonagall never told Harry that she cried that night. Cried for Lily and for James and for little Harry who would never know his parents for himself. In the morning, she wrote a letter to Remus asking if he would come and spend some time with Harry.

Remus sent a letter back a few days later, thanking her for the invitation but saying that Harry shouldn't be exposed to him. McGonagall made the next letter a Howler.

A week later, on Saturday, a nervous and sheepish looking (quite impressive for a werewolf) Remus Lupin turned up at Hogwarts to meet his best friends son. Harry, covered in blue goo and half a bottle of stinksap, wasn't quite as presentable as Minerva had hoped he would be, so it was probably a good thing that Minerva wasn't there.

Harry had of course been pranking. He'd managed to work out the password to the prefects bathroom and had gone in with five bottles of 'Slime Slip Soak Surprise', three bottles of food colouring and most of a bottle of stinksap. Half an hour later he'd left, distinctly messier than he'd started, but with most of the goo hidden above the towels, with a thin piece of wire attaching it to the towels themselves. Minerva, coming to find him saw him on the third floor, trying to find somewhere to wash. At her yell, he abandoned discretion and made a run for it, with the result that, several more floors and many corridors later, he bowled straight into Remus, just coming to see Minerva.

They both ended up on the floor, Remus now with the addition of a 5-year-old-boy shaped blue splodge on his front. Harry winced. This was not going to end well. Remus however, laughed.

"So, were you pranked or did you prank someone?"

"Neither. No-ones triggered the trap yet."

"Where's the trap?"

"Prefects bathroom. Aunt Minnie's probably taken it down by now though. That or she triggered it and I'm in even more trouble."

"You must be Harry then!"

"Uh huh. Who're you?"

"I'm Remus Lupin, I was a friend of your Dad's"

Beneath the goo, Harry's face lit up "Really! Can you tell me about him?"

"Of course!"

"HARRY JAMES POTTER!"

Two sets of eyes turned to look at the end of the corridor. At the tall, thin, blue figure that stood there.

"Oops" said Harry.

"Run!" said Remus.

They ran, spurred on by McGonagall's indignant yell behind them. They dashed down several corridors until Remus grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him into a secret passageway, vanishing the blue footprints along the corridor behind them. They took the secret passageway out to the other side of the floor, then another, this one a passageway Harry already knew, up to the fourth floor, and from there they made their way to an abandoned classroom and sat there panting and giggling. And from that moment on, Remus Lupin was Harry's best friend in the world.

He came to see Harry every Saturday, to hear about whatever trouble he'd gotten into, what he'd learned in class that week, what major thing the students had done that week and what Harry had done on a broom. Then they set up pranks (although they made sure they weren't caught), or went for long walks around the grounds, or swimming in the Black lake. It was Remus who taught Harry how to swim, and Remus who helped him climb every tree in the Hogwarts grounds outside the forbidden forest. It was Remus who helped Harry all the way up to the top of the quidditch stands to show him the bench with 'Marauders bench. Sit at your peril." carved into it, and tell him stories about watching his Dad play quidditch. It was Remus who took him for endless piggy back rides around the castle and showed him where the kitchens were and how to get into them. It was Remus who managed not to inhale his drink when Harry casually suggested that he and McGonagall get married so he could have an adopted father. It was Remus who spent five Saturdays teaching Harry how to punch properly, and telling him to only hit when he absolutely had to. It was Remus who first taught Harry how to play wizards chess, and charmed his pieces to shout rude comments at the opponents. It was Remus who would throw Harry high into the air until he shrieked with glee.

But every Saturday, no matter what else they'd been doing, they always finished lying under the weeping willow next to the lake, with a story of Harry's parents to end the day. Sometimes, afterwards, they would talk until Harry had to go in or Remus had to leave, and sometimes they would just lie there in comfortable silence, both tired out. It was on one of those days that Harry pushed his fringe out of the way to trace his scar, and then reached to trace one of Remus's.

"Look! We're the same!"

And it was Remus who never told Harry that he cried that night. Not just because Harry was right, although in some ways he was. They were both attacked by monsters, and they both had scars. They had both loved Lily and James, and they both missed them. No, Remus Lupin cried because in that excited observation was James's blind acceptance and Lily's quiet kindness.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Sooooo, I really didn't plan to add to this, but I was really touched by the feedback I got from the first two chapters, and then I had the idea so, here it is! It's a slightly different style from the first two and I'm not really happy with the beginning, but it's the first thing I've been able to write after a months writer's block so I'm posting it anyway! Hope you guys still like it! As always, I don't own Harry Potter.

HMHMHMHM

The year after Harry turned nine, something changed at Hogwarts. Very few of the teachers immediately worked out what it was, but Minerva knew the instant the Weasley Twins were sorted that life had just gotten infinitely more chaotic.

What happened next was almost inevitable, because, even if Harry was ickle-Ronniekins friend who sometimes came round on play-dates, he was also a child who grew up in Hogwarts, and as such had a near encyclopedic knowledge of the school that was near invaluable to the pranksters.

They met, as really anyone could have predicted, in a way that properly reflected the parties involved. That is, Harry walked into a trap they had laid on a sixth floor corridor and found himself suddenly upside down in the middle of said corridor, with a large paddling pool suddenly emerging below him. Two matching grins spread across near-identical faces from the watchers around the corner.

The encounter didn't really continue how their previous pranks had gone though (it was only their third week at Hogwarts but they'd already caught three Gryffindor third years, two Hufflepuff sixth years, a Ravenclaw prefect and two Slytherin fourth years in various pranks around the corridors). Firstly, the victim wasn't a student (but any friend of ickle-Ronniekins was fair game), secondly they didn't really look that surprised to find themselves upside down, thirdly – and most worryingly – they didn't really look particularly concerned about the pool of water they were slowly being lowered towards.

Instead of shrieking, yelling or complaining as the other victims of their short reign of terror in the Hogwarts corridors had, this one matter of factly waited until he was fairly close to the ground (and getting wet), then reached out and knocked firmly on a particular brick on the wall, causing a part of that wall to pivot outwards and up like a muggle garage door Arthur Weasley had once seen and spent an entire week subsequently analysing. Harry calmly grabbed the edge of the wall as it swung upwards, and wriggled forwards onto it until he was lying on it. Seconds later he was sitting down examining the rope around his ankle, and seconds after that he was free and hopping off the piece of wall, doing something to return it to it's original position concealing the secret passageway.

"Wow!"

"Wicked!"

"How'd you do that?"

Harry turned round with a look of studied unconcern, wandered right past the gaping red-heads, and headed for the stairs.

"Hey wait!"

"How'd you do that?"

"How'd you know that was there?"

"Wait!"

Harry paused a few steps down the stairs, and waited for the twins to catch up, then he casually hopped back up onto the landing and reached for the little switch hidden under the carving of a nesting eagle on the banister.

"You should be careful of these stairs" he noted aloud as the steps flattered into a single long slide, sending the twins shooting with squawks of shock down to the next floor. By the time the twins had picked themselves off the floor Harry had turned the slide back into stairs, and was running for it. By the end of that afternoons game of 'Hide, Seek and Prank', Harry Potter and the Weasley Twins were fast friends. It was at this point - after an afternoon in which no less than 47 other students got caught up in stray pranks - that the rest of the Hogwarts Professors began to slowly realise that life would never quite be the same again.

In the following month Fred and George spent almost every spare moment with Harry, and when they had a small helper who had already done all the first year classes and homework at least twice, that was quite a lot of spare moments. Together, they went over the school from top to bottom, tossing prank ideas between them while the twins learned every school secret Harry even hinted at, which, while far from all his knowledge (there are some things that only a Hogwarts raised child is allowed to know), was a significant portion of it. Fred and George memorised secret passageways, made friends with the House-Elves, learned where the trick steps were, and how to release them, and generally familiarised themselves with their new hunting grounds.

This kept them surprisingly busy for several weeks, which would have been a mercy to the staff if they weren't waiting with bated breath and increasing twitchyness for the expected prank. When it did come, covering every seat in the school with toffee, it was almost a mercy. But then there were the several hundred animated bats the trio somehow managed to release just before the Halloween feast, a few of which were still flapping around the castle, complete with eerily glowing eyes and a habit of landing on people in dark corridors, when Harry finally got ungrounded in late November.

The first thing he did afterwards of course, was go find Fred and George, who Aunt Minnie had been adamant he was not allowed to see, and had gone as far as inviting him to third year classes to tempt him away from surreptitiously using class time to see the twins. The pair had been strangely silent over his three week grounding, even considering detention had to be taking up some of their time. When he did track them down – hidden in a secret passageway - they were hunched over something and muttering in frustration.

"What's that?"

"Harrikins! You're free!"

Harry huffed at the moniker, "What's was that Fweddy Teddy?"

Fred winced, suddenly remembering why they'd stopped calling Harry that "Here, look" he said, mostly to distract the nine year old "Seen this? We nicked it off Filch."

They passed Harry a piece of old parchment with several lines of writing on it.

 _Mr Padfoot would like to solemnly swear that he admires your persistence, but is disappointed in the guessing skills of the new generation._

 _Mr Moony would like the point out that any true Prankster would not hesitate with the password._

 _Mr Wormtail would like to remind you to know when to give up._

 _Mr Prongs would like to query whether Messrs Weasley even have good intentions, or if they are just up to no good._

Harry felt his hands reach up to take the parchment from Fred, finding he was unable to speak past the sudden thick lump in his throat as George launched into an explanation about trying to guess the password. His fingers traced the letters of his Dad's name, slipping across the old parchment and tracing the folds to the edge of the map his father had spent countless hours helping design, draw and enchant. The map his father had used during his own pranks. The map his father had used to track his mother in their seventh year so he could run down secret passageways and shortcuts to leave her flowers and chocolates on valentines day. The map that was a piece of his fathers magic and friendships and pranks and fun and laughter and love. The map that was a little, tiny, piece of his father.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good"

And even though he was barely whispering, even though he wasn't holding a wand, the writing vanished and new, thick, cursive lines spread across the page.

 _ **Messrs**_

 _ **Moony Wormtail Padfoot and Prongs**_

 _ **Are proud to present**_

 _ **The**_

 **Marauders Map**

"You did it!"

"What is it?"

"How'd you know"

"that was the password?"

"Harry?"

"Mate?"

"You ok?"

"Harry?"

"Harry?"

Harry took in a deep, shaky breath, sniffling a little, and reached his spare hand up to swipe at his face. "Its a map" he said thickly around the lump in his throat "It was my Dads".

The twins fell silent, clearly lost for what to do next. Harry swiped at his cheeks again, and then somehow found himself talking. "Dad was Prongs, and Uncle Remus is Moony. Their friend Peter was Wormtail, but he died in the war, and Dad's best friend Sirius was Padfoot, but he was corrupted and joined the other side. They were the Marauders. Aunt Minnie says they were the biggest pranksters Hogwarts has ever seen."

He fell silent again, running out of words.

"They sound amazing mate"

"Yeah, best Dad ever."

Harry hesitated, then "Want to see a photo?"

HMHMHMHM

Fifteen minutes later the three of them were sitting on Harry's bed in Professor McGonagall's quarters (without her knowledge luckily for her nerves), passing round the framed photo that usually sat next to his bed. Remus had given it to him a few years ago, along with various other photos that they'd made into a photo album. It showed four feather covered beds, all pushed together, with four hyper 12 year olds leaping up and down on them, flailing pillows at their companions. The photo showed a loop of little James swinging his pillow into Sirius's stomach, while the latter thumped his over Remus's head, a small mousy haired boy dodging Remus's own pillow to the side of the frame.

George looked at the photo and the map on the bed "We should do something to remember them."

His twin caught his eye and glanced at their younger friend "To honour their memory." he added.

Harry looked between the map and the photo and a smile spread across his face "It would be a shame not to do something that reflects their spirit wouldn't it?

HMHMHMHM

The prank took months to set up. Getting the house elves alongside was easy, they adored Harry even more than he adored them. The problem was that almost all the rest of it had to be done with runes, because none of them had the power to do it with just transfiguration, and 'Aunt Minnie' could have undone it in a second if they'd used transfiguration anyway. It took several months of research, careful questions to certain professors, and sneaking around after curfew to set it up. Somehow though, they managed it without getting any older students on board (even though Harry knew which NEWT students would help with just a few nudges), or more impressively, alerting Minerva or spoiling the surprise for Remus. They timed it for the last Saturday of the spring term so that Remus would get to see it, and snuck out of their respective beds before even the earliest students could be coming down to breakfast, and put the finishing touches on their preparations before activating the runes they'd painstakingly drawn (and hidden under concealment charms) on the Entrance Hall floor and walls. Then they hid in a secret passageway to watch and wait.

The prank started slowly of course, as people trickled down to breakfast, then sped up in a sudden rush as students ran to get their friends and alert their house. By the time Minerva came down to investigate where her son had gone and why there was so much noise at 8am on a Saturday in a school full of _teenagers_ , it was in full swing and she could only gape at what Harry and the twins had managed.

They'd turned the _entire hall_ into a bed. The entire floor had been turned into one giant, wall-to-wall mattress, covered in swaths of house-coloured blankets. Huge buckets of shoes stood at the bottom of the Main Staircase, and mounds of pillows in each corner provided weaponry for any new arrivals. Madam Pomfrey stood at the bottom of the Great staircase casting defensive charms on the noses of those inclined towards hay-fever, a kind of resigned amusement on her face as she kept an eye on the biggest pillow fight Hogwarts had ever seen.

While the different coloured wall hangings around the massive four-poster bed the hall had become indicated house territories to defend and attack, it had already devolved into a simple free for all, with people ducking in and out of the fray as they ran into the great hall for a few mouthfuls of food and back to reclaim their pillows. Right in the middle of the fray, swinging pillows at each other's stomachs and heads, were Fred, George and Harry, smiling with sadness tinged joy. And above their heads, in words that made tears spring to McGonagall's eyes, glittering gold writing hung in mid-air.

 _ **For the Marauders: Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs.**_

 _ **In memory**_

The click of a camera next to her brought Minerva slowly out of the flood of memories that had suddenly risen, and she turned around to see Remus lower the camera, his own face already wet with tears.

"Send me a copy of the photo" was all Minerva said, and Remus nodded before they both turned back to watching the little boy who looked and acted so much like James, but had nevertheless thought to get Madam Pomfrey as Lily would have.

HMHMHMHM

Hours later, the prank having been left up for most of the day, Harry snuck back down to where they'd hidden the runes that had turned the stone floor into a mattress. He looked round one last time at the blanket and pillow strewn hall, remembering the fun of the day. Then he looked up to where the glittering letters still hung, and it was the Marauders who he thought of as he whispered the phrase to deactivate the prank.

" _Mischief Managed_ "


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Hi, so this is a little different from the previous chapters because it focuses more on Remus than Harry, but he is there, at the end. I hope you guys like it! I've been sooooo encouraged by the response from this story – seriously, you guys are the best. This was supposed to be a two chapter fic, but you guys make me want to keep adding to it and I keep having new ideas I want to add to it! This will probably have another two chapters, but I'm about to have exams so I'm not sure when those will actually be written!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

MHMHMHMHMHMH

5 times Remus helped James pretend to be Hagrid and 1 time he helped Harry

Remus is eleven, and he has _no idea_ why he's doing this. This was Sirius's idea. Sirius stole the coat. Sirius got James all excited about it. Sirius...had detention. And now James was too excited to wait and he'd begged and cajoled and begged again and Remus couldn't quite say no to his messy-haired dorm-mate who called him a _friend_ and appeared to actually _like_ him!

So here he is, not in the library writing his first charms essay since arriving at Hogwarts, but hiding behind a tree on the grounds, with James Potter balanced very precariously on his shoulders. Despite James's boasts about being an amazing quidditch player (which, from their first flying class, looked likely to be true), any balancing skill he had on a broom did not seem to extend to balancing on socked feet on skinny shoulders. The only thing that was vaguely helping was a very badly cast third-year balancing charm a helpful prefect had taught Remus. The fact that they both have Hagrids trench-coat draped over them is not helping. Nor is the fact that, even standing one on top of the other, the coat was still dragging on the ground. The fact that Peter had applied a sticking charm to the front of the coat to hide them (and incidentally render Remus completely blind) was also seriously not helping. Remus had tried to unstick it, but James had almost fallen off his shoulders protesting that _no-_ one would believe they were Hagrid if there were _eyes_ looking out of his stomach.

Remus personally didn't think that anyone was going to think they were Hagrid anyway. He also thought that the likelihood of them even making it safely around the grounds was very, very low. It was going to be a miracle if they didn't fall into the lake.

"Remus?"

Remus Lupin had known James Potter for less than a month, but he already knew that _that_ tone of voice was not a good sign. He wondered if whatever it was would go away if he didn't answer, but given this was James, it wasn't very likely.

"Ye-es?"

"I've dropped my glasses."

Remus stopped. He took a deep breath. He let it out. "Where?"

"I don't know, I can't see the ground properly."

"Where's your wand?"

"I put it in one of the coat pockets."

"Can you get it out?"

"My arms don't reach the end of the sleeves."

Remus took another deep breath.

"Remus?"

"Ye-es?"

"There's a big black blurry thing running at us."

Remus paused, he could distantly hear barking. "Is it Hagrids dog?"

"Maybe."

"Did you take the dog biscuits out of the pockets?"

"Maybe?"

"Oh dear" said Remus, shortly before something big and heavy bowled into his legs and they devolved into a tangle of arms, legs, coat and inquisitive boar-hound puppy.

MHMHMHMHMH

Remus is thirteen, and he has no idea why he's doing this. This was Sirius's suggestion _again_ and the _least_ he could do is to take part, but it turns out that the thirteen year old isn't strong enough yet to take James' weight, and given his balance was even worse than James's, they had decided someone else needed to be involved. They had then suddenly remembered that Remus was significantly stronger than both of them and had promptly turned up in the library where he had been _perfectly happy_ researching cloth to metal transfigurations. Remus of course had been rather sceptical about Sirius's 'brilliant idea' that needed him to 'come right now, come on!' and protested that he needed to finish his homework. James and Sirius however had then come to the unfortunate conclusion that Remus needed to get out and 'live a little Remus, the library's rotting your brain!', and had gotten them all kicked out by Madam Pince.

So here Remus was _again_ , with James's socked feet on his shoulders (wearing new socks because Remus had taken one whiff of his old pair and threatened to jinx him into next month) and a trench-coat charmed shut in his face. At least this time the boy balanced on his shoulders had charmed his glasses to stick to his face. And at least they now knew (and could actually cast) a decent balancing charm that at least _reduced_ the likelihood of them both breaking their necks. And at the very least, while the trouble-brothers were focussed on imitating Hagrid and winding up innocent first-years (well, Remus assumes they are innocent anyway given the Marauders first year was anything but) they were not focussed on whatever project had them shoving books with titles like _'A detailed anatomical study of deer'_ under the bed whenever he came in. Remus had a bad feeling about that project. There could not possibly be a good reason that Sirius 'live in the moment' Black and James 'the library is toxic' Potter would want to research _anatomy_. The fact that even Peter wouldn't tell him what the project was only solidified Remus's impression that this project was going to make him question whether all his friends needed to be committed to St. Mungo's long-term ward for the mentally-unstable.

"JAMES"

Oh dear, that sounded like Sirius. And Remus was pretty sure he that other sound was running footsteps too. Above his head James stopped telling another poor first year about the restless spirit that occupied the whomping-willow and preyed on those foolish enough to venture near. They both shifted nervously.

"Minnie's coming! RUN!"

Remus resisted the urge to sigh, and turned round and started making his way back towards Hagrids hut as quickly as he could with someone balanced precariously on top of him. Sirius caught up moments later and frantically hurried them along, adding his own directions to James's until he said left and James said right and they walked into a tree.

And that was how they not only ended up in another tangle of arms, legs and coat, but they also got detention. Remus couldn't really say he was surprised. He also couldn't really say he was surprised that Madam Pince wouldn't let him back into the library to finish his essay because Sirius had released a Fanged-Frisbee on his way out. Maybe he should have Sirius and James committed anyway.

MHMHMHMH

Remus is sixteen, and he wasn't entirely sure why he was doing this. But owls started in _2 days_ and he was so _beyond_ stressed he thought he might explode and he was _so sick_ of studying that he thought his eyes might fall out so he'd suggested this. He still wasn't sure what had possessed him, maybe Sirius had confounded him, maybe revision had consumed his sanity along with his will to live, but whatever the reason James wasn't going to let him back out.

So here he is, with James excitedly pulling on the trench-coat a bemused Hagrid had lent them, the teenager as thankful to get away from books and notes for an hour as Remus was, claiming this was 'practical revision on advanced balancing charms, glamour spells and hair growth enchantments'.

Remus wasn't even _trying_ to pretend this was anything more productive than metaphorically screaming _"STUFF YOU"_ at exams and revision of all kinds.

It did feel rather good though.

MHMHMHMH

Remus is eighteen and knows _exactly_ why he's doing this.

He's doing this because the full moon is in two days. He's doing this because the world is on fire and it feels like he can't do anything about it. He's doing this because the man on his shoulders has barely spoken a single full sentence since the ministry owl with the black envelope landed infront of him two days ago. He's doing this because the _Daily Prophet_ photo of the Potter home in flames is etched in stark lines behind his eyes. He's doing this because this is the first thing James has asked since that awful moment. He's doing this because he desperately wants to let Prongs escape the reality that is fuelling that hollow, gutted look behind his friends glasses, if only for an hour. He's doing this because stomping around in a trench-coat scaring firsties is the only little, tiny piece of his friend's world he can glue back together.

So Remus doesn't complain that he can't see a thing. And he doesn't comment when James's bad directions almost send them sprawling. And he doesn't tell James that he can't smell any other students nearby, and he doesn't say anything about James yelling insults at thin air. He just keeps walking around the lake, and when James's insults tail off and his breath grows heavy and uneven and his body shakes with tears, Remus doesn't tell James its going to be ok, he just keeps walking. Because Remus isn't sure it is going to be ok, and he won't lie to his friend.

MHMHMHMH

Remus is nineteen and he really doesn't know why he's still doing this. But something is _clearly_ on James's mind, and he clearly needed someone to distract him, or at least to put up with his babbling until he got round to talking about whatever was bothering him. And Moony wasn't going to let one of his best mates apparate home in this state. So here he is, once again wearing Hagrids trench-coat, meandering along the edge of the forbidden forest with the bloke sitting on his shoulders (even Hagrid wasn't as tall as two grown men standing on top of each other) calling out directions in intervals.

"Right a bit" James said, and Remus stepped over a tangled group of roots to steer around the tree.

"Left in a couple seconds" James said, and Remus concentrated on not tripping over a small rock too low to the ground for James to see.

"Lily's pregnant" James said, and Remus walked into a tree.

Once they have stopped cursing and have untangled themselves and sat up, Remus stares a little wildly at James.

"I don't suppose I misheard you?"

"Lily's pregnant" James repeated, sounding a little shell-shocked.

"Didn't think so." Remus said. "Uh, Congratulations."

"Lily's _pregnant!_ " James said again, beginning to sound like a broken record.

"Yes, I got that bit" Remus said.

"Lily's _**pregnant!**_ " James said again. "With a baby! A living, breathing, _breakable_ baby."

"Yes, that is generally what pregnant means" Remus said, patting James on the shoulder the way he might pat a very skittish horse – or stag.

"I'm not ready to be a dad!" James chocked "I can't look after a baby! I can barely look after myself!"

"You'll work it out." Remus said with much more confidence that he felt, because that was what friends did "You always do. And Lily will help."

"But, but, but... Lily's _pregnant!"_

"Yes, yes she is." Remus agreed patiently, and he spread Hagrids trench-coat out on the forest floor and poked James onto it and sat with him until he started freaking out about more specific things, like what he was supposed to do if the baby was sick that Remus could at least promise to go and look up. And later, once he'd side-along apparated a mildly calmer James back to his wife, he allowed himself to smile. Because even if James was so-not-ready to have a child, and even if there was a war on and the thought of his almost-brother's child being born into it made him sick, Remus just knew that the little life growing in Lily's stomach was going to be loved more than any child could imagine, and he or she was going to hold a key to his heart and _Merlin help_ anyone who _ever_ tried to hurt his cub.

MHMHMHMH

Remus is twenty-seven and feeling a deep sense of deja-vu as he balances 7 year old Harry Potter on his shoulders. He'd told a few of the stories of Hagrids trench-coat to the boy last week and, possibly predictably, Harry had begged to try it himself this Saturday.

So Remus supported a giggling Harry on his shoulders and strolled around the edge of the lake, letting Harry wave around 'Hagrids' arms using two long sticks stuck up the sleeves and pretend his voice could go deep enough to sound like the half-giants. His little cub is having the time of his life re-enacting one of his fathers pranks, and his stifled giggles reminded Remus of another boy with glasses and a too-high voice. Of that first year of unquestioning acceptance and one of the closest friends he ever had. Of another boy with his whole life ahead of him and a face full of carefree laughter.

And even though they almost lose Harry's glasses completely, get caught by 'Aunt Minnie' _and_ bowled over by Hagrids distinctly-no-longer-a-puppy boar-hound, Remus is grinning ear to ear when they finally run back down to Hagrids cabin to return the coat. And as he brings Harry back up to the castle to at least _try_ to clean him up a bit before returning him to Minerva, he promised himself that he would protect his cubs careless joy for as long as he could manage, and that _this_ Potter would get to live _all_ of that bright future which lay before him. Because if he'd ever been right about anything in his life, it had been that Harry James Potter was born with the key to his heart, and that he would be loved. And even if the lightning-bolt scar on his cubs forehead was a constant reminder of his failure to protect him, well, if Voldemort ever thought to try again, he would find out why the wizarding world feared werewolves.

But for now, someone needed a bath (well, two someone's if Remus was really being honest), and a large dinner and somebody needed to pacify Minerva, and develop the photos of the 'Hagrid' informing a first year about the unquiet spirit trapped in the whomping willow, and quite possibly pacify Minerva again...


End file.
